Date: Sat, 27 Nov 2021 09:36:39 +0000 From: awb_1971 Subject: Slave Time (Young friends) Slave Time All the usual disclaimers apply. The following story is based on personal experience, although lightly fictionalised, and contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity between young boys. READ NO FURTHER if you are under the age of eighteen or offended by such material. I am using this as a safe place to revisit memories of my own burgeoning sexuality. I do not condone in any way the sexual exploitation of minors. Please donate to nifty.org (https://donate.nifty.org). It is the only way to keep this site up and running. Any feedback,contact me at awb_1971@protonmail.com This story is an expansion of a true story sent to me by a Nifty reader. He sent through just a couple of paragraphs, and I have expanded the story a little, filling in blanks here and there and deviating a little from the original occasionally. So, it is broadly a true story, but names have ben changed. My thanks to the gent who offered his story and said it was Ok to publish my version. My best friend Andrew and I were in the same maths class at school. He was blond, stocky, with blue eyes, and a surprisingly rich rolling voice that made him sound a little older than his 14 years. I was dark haired, with muddy-coloured eyes, but fairly fit as I played rugby for the school under 15s side. Andrew didn't play sports for the school, although rumour had it that he would run a book on the results. We were due to sit a test for the maths class and as we went in Andrew leaned over to me: `Bet I get a better score than you!' Andrew was good at maths, but so was I, so it was no foregone conclusion. Andrew also liked to make bets with the other boys in class. The bets were often for favours or dares. It started when he was younger for sweets, or to draw on the teacher's whiteboard, that sort of thing. But as puberty and hormones took over, the forfeits became rather more sexual in nature. `What are the stakes?' `Slave time.' I nodded my agreement, `slave time, one hour' I replied. Andrew nodded. `One hour. Done.' And so, we went in. Slave time was something we instituted across our friend's group from about 11 years old onward. At first it was to do with fetching and carrying, going to the shops for them, that sort of thing. As we got older it took a more exploratory turn. The loser slave had to tidy the winner's room, but would have to do it naked. Or give a massage, also naked, which may lead to wanking off the `master.' I liked slave time. Especially being the slave. I liked to be naked and had wanked off a few of the boys in our group. Not because I was bad at winning, but because I was good at losing. I liked losing, I liked being the slave. This time though I wanted to win. I wanted Andrew to be the slave, to force him to tidy my bedroom whilst he was naked. I liked to see Andrew naked. I liked to see the other boys naked too, but particularly Andrew. I wanted his hand around my cock, jerking it to orgasm. The test happened, and I felt fairly confident. Andrew also looked confident, which was not unusual, he generally appeared confident, so I didn't worry too much. The following day the results were given out. I got 93%, and was feeling cock-a-hoop until Andrew's score was given, `96%.' The highest in the class. He glanced over and grinned at me, mouthing `slave boy!' at me. I was disappointed, but not entirely unhappy. I would probably at least get to toss him off again. After class Andrew came up to me. `Okay, this Saturday, meet me at 3pm at the path to the folly.' I nodded. The folly was a round stone structure, like a tower, it was built to look ruined, although it had collapsed a little in places as well. It was all that was left of a grand estate that was created over a hundred years ago by some weird millionaire, some guy who had made his fortune in railways in the mid-nineteenth century. The lands of the estate were all still there, mostly farmland now, and ringed with the slow urban sprawl of what had once been a small village and was now a small town, with housing estates spreading all over. The land of the old estate was protected somehow, so it could be farmed but not built on. The big house has caught fire in the fifties, and had to be demolished, and now only the folly remained, in a field of its own, just on the edge of the village. Saturday was clear and warm, and I pedalled over to the beginning of the path that led from the houses across the fields about a quarter mile to the folly. When I arrived, Andrew was already there. I locked my bike up with his in the scrubby bushes close to the path. `Slave,' said Andrew authoritatively. `Strip' he commanded. I looked at him with alarm. Andrew stared back. `Slave, I said strip.' I looked around me nervously. No one was coming, although people peering from the houses on the edge of the fields could probably see, if they looked really hard. `Now' ordered Andrew. I peeled off my t-shirt, holding it wondering where I should put it. Andrew produced a bag which he opened. Taking the hint, I dropped the t-shirt in. The sun on my young body, the warmth mixed with the slight chill of the early May air made my nipples harden and stick out from my smooth and hairless chest. Andrew stared at my torso, and the knowledge he was looking at me, along with the illicitness of stripping off outside, caused a wave of arousal to wash around me. I dropped my jeans, took off my trainers and socks before shaking the jeans loose, dumping them into the bag. I paused, feeling the air on my thighs and the cool grass under my feet. My cock was swelling now, and I slid my underpants down, allowing it to bob forward, releasing my balls to swing beneath. The pants went into the bag. Andrew headed over to the bikes and put the bag in the pannier he had on the back before returning to me. I stood watching him take my clothes out of my reach, feeling the cool breeze ripple through my pubic bush and cool my warm scrotum, the balls shifting in their sack as they found the correct temperature for making sperm. `Get yourself hard' he commanded. I pulled on my cock a few times with my hand and that took it swiftly from chubbed interested to fully alert, a full 4 and half inches at that time. Andrew grunted his approval. `Good slave.' Andrew reached out his hand and grabbed my stiff cock. `Come on' he ordered and strode off up the path towards the folly. Surprised by his sudden heading off I wasn't prepared, and I lurched forward painfully as he hauled my cock with him. Andrew seemed to take a lot of pleasure in taking the most complex route, twisting and turning in his path, pulling my erection from side to side as he did so. He deliberately walked fast so I was struggling, almost jogging, to keep up along with following his convoluted route up the path, Andrew always going slightly quicker than was comfortable, so my cock felt pulled at the root, painful, although in a way my cock was very positively responding to. I dreaded seeing someone else on the path and was grateful when the folly became closer and closer, and I could see that no-one was around from the viewpoint it commanded on its low hill. Andrew stopped at the entrance to the folly. He looked around him. He let go of my cock. `Slave, I order you to walk to the other end of the field, then do a complete circuit of the fence and then back here. You have to keep stiff throughout.' I looked at him worriedly, waiting for him to say, `only joking', but he didn't. `Did you hear me, slave?' I nodded. `Then why are you here?' I set off. After a stride or so Andrew called `Stop, slave.' I stopped. `Bend over, slave.' I paused briefly, then slowly bent over, my hands gripping my lower legs for support. There was a slapping sound and my buttocks stung as I lurched forward in my pose. `What do you say slave?' I didn't know, so I didn't answer. Slap! Again, my bum smarting from his spank. `You say "Thank you sir"' Another slap. `Thank you, sir' I replied. `Now get on with the walk. Quickly. No running.' I headed off down the field to the far fence, but buttocks tingling, my cock at full mast. `And keep yourself stiff' called Andrew as I headed away from him. I stopped briefly and turned so he could see my erect cock against the sky. Andrew nodded. The walk around the edge of the field probably only takes 10 minutes or so, but it felt like ages. My worry that I would be seen competed with the sense of naughtiness at being transgressively naked, flaunting an erection in public, at the mercy of my `master.' The walk was eventually completed without incident, and I re-joined Andrew at the folly. `Come' he said as he ducked into the tower's interior. He stood before me. `Good slave' he said. I smiled. I glanced at his watch, which showed 3;20. 40 minutes to go. What next, I wondered. `Strip me.' So that was next. My cock twitched and bobbed with excitement at the idea of stripping Andrew, revealing his pale young body. Andrew was wearing a buttoned shirt, jeans and trainers. I started with his shirt, slowly undoing the buttons from the collar to the bottom, the fabric sagging as it parted, his pale chest, with a fine dusting of blond hairs between his nipples, the smooth tummy and just a flash of pubic hair peeping out. I unbuttoned the cuffs, went behind him and pulled the shirt off him. I paused to admire his lean back, his fine shoulder blades racing down to his narrow 14-year-old boy's waist. Next were the trainers and socks. Andrew raised and held up each foot as I unlaced him, pulled of his trainer then peeled away the sock underneath revealing his feet, smooth, well-formed and soft, with a slight odour, not unpleasant, rising from them. I knelt to unbutton his jeans, the belt flopping down as I pulled his zipper. The jeans fly parted to reveal white briefs, with a chubbing cock pushing at the thin fabric. I pulled his jeans down and lifted each foot out, then cast the jeans to one side. I looked again at his pants, which were now bulging with his fullness, a tantalising wet stain showing where his cock had already started leaking. My own cock did so almost in sympathy, and I could feel the sticky precum dripping onto my thighs as I knelt. I pulled the fabric of his pants at the sides, the front catching on his cock as I pulled down, stretching them. I could just feel the roundness of his buttocks with my fingerprints as I kept the pressure on, running down to his lightly-haired thighs as his cock was pulled down, straining against the fabric before the pants finally pulled away and his cock bobbed out freed at last. The fabric continued to fall away, his balls becoming visible in their straw-thatched sack. The pants dropped to his ankles and kicked them away. I leant back a little, mesmerised by his cock, wondering what `master' wanted next. `Lick my balls' was his request. I obliged, leaning in to taste the sack they dangled in, the feeling of his pubes on my lips causing another blob of precum to drip from my raging erection onto my thighs. I opened my mouth and slowly enveloped one testicle in my mouth, manipulating it with my tongue and lips, before moving onto to the other one. Andrew's knees sagged slightly as I did so, a sure sign of his excitement. `Lick up the shaft of my cock' came the next order. I started at the point where his scrotum becomes shaft, running my tongue around the shaft from underneath to the top where it is rooted in the pubis, then back under again to the other side. His cock head rubbed on my face as I did so, leaving a sticky trail across my face. I didn't mind, I didn't mind at all. I worked slowly up, wrapping my tongue around his shaft as it made the 5-inch journey to the head. Andrew moaned with pleasure as my tongue finally flicked against his glans, spewing precum onto it as I did so. `Stop' he commanded. I knelt back slightly. He turned around so his bum was in my face. `Run your tongue right along the crack' he said. I started at the top where his rounded globes start their journey outwards from his back. I gently pulled them apart, and Andrew leant forward slightly as I did so, parting his cheeks, allowing my tongue to slowly work down his crack. When I arrived at his bumhole I lingered a little longer, lightly tapping it with my tongue, relishing the sharp tang of it and the moans coming from my `master.' `Good slave' he muttered as I continued from his hole down between his legs as far as I could go, nearly but not quite able to lick the back of his scrotum which dangled so invitingly. Andrew straightened up and turned back to me, his cock now approaching my mouth. `Suck it' he said. I hadn't sucked a cock before, although I had seen pictures in dirty magazines of women sucking on cocks. I thought I would toss him off at best, but to take his cock into my mouth was beyond my expectations. I opened my mouth and moved in, his cockhead hovering between my lips before I closed them around it. `Fucking hell, good slave, suck it for me slave, fucking suck it' I heard. I needed no bidding at this point. With the head in my mouth, I ran my tongue around it, and was rewarded with a glob of sweet precum. I moved in, allowing his cock to slide further into my mouth, careful to keep my teeth away from him. I placed my hands on his buttocks to give me support and to hold him steady. I felt his cock head tap the roof of my mouth after about 3 inches of it was in. I shifted slightly, tilting my head so it freed it to go further. After another inch or so it hit the back of my throat and I gagged slightly. I pulled back, allowing Andrew's boycock to slide back out right up to the tip, then pushed back down again, careful to stop just before my gag reflex kicked in again. I settled to a rhythm, my mouth gliding up and down his cock, enjoying the taste, the sensation and the sheer bloody naughtiness of it all. So, it would appear, did Andrew. His breathing became more rapid, his hands gripped my shoulders for support, his stance widened to steady himself as I serviced his cock with my young mouth. I felt his buttocks start to twitch as his body worked towards his orgasm, his bare feet arching, his thighs tensing, his body arching back as the sperm rose from his balls and was poured into my mouth, filling it with its musky flavour. I carried on sucking as Andrew groaned in bliss, his young cock still throwing rope after rope of cum into my mouth. I swallowed greedily, feeling the boycum slide down my gullet to my stomach. The shuddering ceased and Andrew descended from his orgasm. He moved away from me, staring in wonder. `You swallowed it?' he asked, `fucking hell, you swallowed my cum?' I smiled `Am I a good slave?' I asked. Andrew nodded. `The best.' He got dressed then gestured, `Come on, slave, follow me.' I followed him out of the folly back along the path to our bikes, my erection raging and dripping throughout. My fear of seeing someone returned, but it was overridden by the remembrance of Andrew cumming in my mouth. I think I would have told any staring passer-by that I had just eaten cum if there had been any. Probably a good job no-one was there. When we arrived back at the bikes Andrew told me to stand on the path whilst he got the bag out. He threw items of clothing at me, first my socks, then my t-shirt, then my trainers, forcing me to keep my erection on display as long as possible. Finally, I got my pants and jeans and I slipped into them quickly, feeling the dampness of my leaking cock permeate my pants. As we headed back into the houses, Andrew glanced at his watch. `3;45' he said. `You owe me a quarter of an hour. Come on.' And he set off on his bike, with me following behind, his slave for a further 15 minutes, and also forever.